The Night we became strangers

That night,
nothing shattered loudly.
No doors.
No raised voices.

Just two people
speaking in careful sentences,
as if love had become fragile
and might crack if named.

You sat beside me,
close enough to feel your warmth,
far enough to feel the loss.

I wanted to ask
are we still us?
but the question stayed lodged in my throat,
heavy with khauf.

Your silence wasn’t cruel—
it was tired.
And mine was full of things
I didn’t know how to forgive yet.

We smiled out of habit.
We nodded like strangers do
when they don’t want to be rude.

Somewhere between a sigh
and an unfinished sentence,
love turned into yaad—
still alive,
just no longer living here.

That was the night
your name stopped feeling safe on my tongue
and became a quiet prayer
I didn’t know where to send.

We didn’t fall apart.
We simply crossed an invisible line
and learned—
even hearts can drift into ajnabiyat
without ever saying goodbye.

Mutty Rukhsar